Neighbor
by Elfgoddess00
Summary: Schuldig and Yohji, stuck in an elevator on a Monday at lunch hour. Because life isn't always condusive to those perfect evil vs. good moments, and everybody needs to get their hair done. Among other things. Rating for content, to be safe.


_**Neighbors**_

_(A Yohji and Schuldig Random Vinette)_

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Yohji stared dumbly at his shadowed reflection in the shining granite floors, idly wondering how much time and how many people it took to get a stone like granite to be so…perfect… every day no matter how many people walked, puked, spilled, and otherwise abused it. It took him another five seconds into this thought pattern before the cheerful _ding_ of the department store elevator forced him back to lucidity and the conclusion that he needed to find something else to think about in his spare time.

Eyes scanning the usual fare of stay-home mothers and rowdy children, Yohji's face finally settled into a bored, listless expression, and he jammed his hands in his pockets as he turned around in time to see the doors slide home. A blushing young woman inquired as to his floor number and he gave it flirtatiously, winking at her. She tittered off at the very next floor, and the playboy let his personality fall vacant once more.

The salon where he had his hair done was at the top of the Sakurano department store building, with a fine view of the random arrangement of skyscrapers that served as Shinjuku's skyline. He liked going in the evenings usually, both to catch any young women getting dolled up before hitting the town (especially the tourists – Yohji savored one night stands like fine wines…foreign women were so…_refreshing_), and to also enjoy the moon rising in the dusk of twilight to peep at him from between those tall, commanding buildings.

Tonight, however, Weiss had a mission, one of many in a recent string of missions, and if he waited any longer, Yohji was going to start looking like a shag carpet. Ugh. He simply could _not_ allow his appearance to fall that far into disarray. So here he was, one o'clock in the afternoon, hanging out with the shopping mall 'moms' and their screaming children. Blah. How _boring_.

Five floors before Yohji's, the elevator seemed to evacuate nearly all of it's passengers. Curious, the brunet poked his head out, wondering what on earth was attracting that many people. Was it free smoothy day at the Italian Tomato again? If so, that might prove worth a detour.

A quick glance proved that alas, it was simply a combination restaurant and kids' gaming room, and the mothers just wanted peace to gossip. Sighing heavily, the lanky man pulled his head in just before the elevator doors would have snapped shut on it and leaned casually against the railing. The only other sole occupant made a small noise as he shifted his weight against the far wall, and of their own accord, Yohji's deep green eyes rolled in the direction, seeking to get a quick peek at his fellow passenger.

Yohji nearly choked at the sight of the familiar, horrid green dye job. It was Schuldig. The playboy froze, a deer in the headlights, a lamb before slaughter, for what felt like at least a good five minutes before he realized that the German telepath was _not_ paying attention to him. Eyes cast vacantly on the floor, the Schwartz seemed to be lost in thought, slurping on some sort of softdrink cup festooned with little tanuki characters waving cheerfully and encouraging the consumer about their product's great taste and relaxing effect. Schuldig had apparently eaten lunch at the Ponpocopon restaurant on the 2nd floor. Somehow the idea of the German sitting down at one of those tables and making himself okonomiyaki was just _so_ overwhelmingly weird that Yohji started laughing. He couldn't help it. It was so…_normal_. This of course, got Schuldig's attention. The foreigner stopped slurping and started fixing Yohji with some sinister smirks almost immediately upon recognition. The playboy had the good sense to stop laughing and narrow his eyes in menacing defense.

They were locked in a battle of stares, inches apart, when the doors opened and a flustered young woman in the uniform of the MAC cosmetics store tittered at the intimate picture they presented, bowed in apology and embarrassment and muttered that she would 'catch the next one'. The sad part was that Yohji was pretty sure he recognized her, and that he might have some explaining to do later.

And it was suddenly that his next great revelation came to him. Schuldig was such a pervert. And who better than Yohji to give that back to him? Curving his lips into a smirk, Yohji let lose every perverted thought flying through the back of his mind into his consciousness. Schuldig's expression became comical almost, and the German choked on his current sip of softdrink.

"_Gott_. It's lunch time Kudo. In a _shopping_ mall. " he growled, as if that should be enough reason for Yohji to stop thinking such perverted thoughts. Yohji only smiled enigmatically, and stuck his hands in his pockets, turning to face the doors and once again concentrating all thought patterns on sex. The doors chimed open for the next floor. It was empty. After a long, tense silence, during which Schuldig stared at the floor again with great interest and Yohji began feeling slightly weird about…well…being such a pervert at such a bland hour of the day, the stupidity of the entire situation seemed to dawn on the two of them. That, and Yohji's mind had jumped it's tracks and began combining images of Schuldig and sex, which was too weird for the both of them. The lanky playboy met the German's startled gaze with his own. Scheming, Shculdig tried to turn the tables in his favor and curled one corner of his mouth up wickedly. Yohji swallowed hard and cleared his throat. Before things could get ugly, however, the doors popped open and a fat, balding middle aged man in a tight, polyester suit blustered on and in between the two of them, jostling them good naturedly. The doors closed, and after about two seconds of silence the man began talking jovially, unaware of the strangest battle over sexual dominance ever to take place outside a bedroom occurring right over his head.

"_…And I said, it's just fine dear, I won't need an umbrella', but my wife, she can be such a worrier! So she hands me my bento, and says 'Shiro!' she says, 'You take that umbrella! It's going to rain!' but what can I do? Don't want to upset the cook eh? So I took…"_

The telepathic battle for dominance lasted until the man began elbowing them both to elicit responses to the drivel he'd just polluted their air with impatiently. They blinked, seers coming out of a trance, and the doors dinged once more. The man bustled off, to be replaced by a pair of moronic high-school girls who talked about their phones and the boys in class, and why the color 'Hello Kitty Pink' was the best in that new nail polish brand, and before Yohji knew it he could feel his brain start to liquefy. It was precisely this reason that he avoided girls under 18. They batted their eyes at both Yohji and Schu, and attempted to flirt shamelessly. Yohji looked uncomfortable and Schuldig went back to sucking on his stupid straw, playing the 'dumb foreigner' card; shrugging like an idiot and shaking his head while smiling stupidly. They tittered over him anyways. Served that bastard right.

Finally, they got off at the next floor, and Yohji and Sculdig were alone once more. They stood in silence, more as a need to recover from their brief interlude with two floors of hell, than from any previous sexual or enemy tension.

The elevator climbed to the top floor without further incident, and they both stepped out, glancing at one another in surprise. Their gazes flicked to the hair salon and it was Yohji's turn to choke. Schuldig got that awful green dye job _here_?! The playboy felt slightly green himself. The German grinned and waggled his eyebrows, before cutting himself off abruptly and shrugging. They stared at each other uncertainly for another moment before Schuldig finally sighed, shrugged, and turned towards the salon, dumping his drink in a waste basket outside the door.

Caught between the absurd urge to laugh or tackle the Schwartz, Yohji did neither, instead speeding up his long legged stride to make his walk match that of Schuldig's. After all; Yohji'd be _damned_ if the German got seated first. Getting the same idea, Schuldig casually shot out a leg and tripped him before sauntering into the trendy establishment. Spluttering, Yohji shot-up gracefully and strode in after, pausing to yank _hard_ on a fistful of the German's green hair before ascending aristocratically to the counter. Schuldig elbowed him aside, scowling. The receptionist was staring at them incredulously, before she collected herself and smiled, albeit somewhat shakily.

"Ahh, you must be our 1:15 appointments! Right this way, please!" she chimed. On cue, two shampooing masseuses appeared to guide them in opposite directions. Their eyes met and held one last time, before they smiled and broke off, each whistling all the way.

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Crack. Utter Crack. Working on Trading and Edo. Sorry folks. Crappy living situation, and abrupt move coming up. Not much personal time or creative juice. Hence, _this_. I needed the break. And so did Yohji and Schu…obviously. 


End file.
